Open Letter

Dear Alec Baldwin,

August 2007

How's it going, man? Look, we're going to be really gentle here. We don't want to make you mad. So imagine we're saying this in a soft whisper, with soothing wind chimes jingling in the background. Let's put on some Norah Jones, too. Ahhhh. Peaceful tranquillity.

We're worried about you, Alec. We enjoy you as an actor: You were brilliant in The Departed, and we love you on 30 Rock, because you clearly can make fun of yourself. But you seem to be—how can we put this in a way that won't upset you?—totally batshit. Seriously, you're so crazy we'd rather caddie for Bobby Knight than piss you off. We'd rather tell Zinédine Zidane that his sister is a hairy pute. We'd rather take a role in David O. Russell's next movie.

That telephone tantrum at your 11-year-old daughter? Yikes. Look, no one really knows what goes on in another person's family. It's clear you're going through some tough times. It's also true that 11-year-olds can be manipulative pains in the ass. Like those Girl Scouts. Always pushing the Do-si-dos and the Thin Mints. Jerks.

But you really blew a gasket, Alec. And in the process, you nearly torpedoed your career. It got so bad your agent started getting calls for Billy Baldwin.

The good news is that everyone makes mistakes. Paris Hilton's off to jail. Barry Bonds used ?axseed oil. President Bush completely messed up that whole future-of-the-earth thing.

So there's hope for you, Alec. First, you need to lay off the caffeine, and you probably shouldn't read "Page Six" for a while. But do as we say and everything may work out.

1. Serenity now. Alec, you need to reduce your stress level—immediately. So unplug that cell phone. Throw your BlackBerry in the ocean. Take a vow of silence. Abstain from sex. Buy yourself season tickets to the San Antonio Spurs.

2. Stop blaming the tabloids. We're sure it sucks when newspapers say things about you that aren't true, but you can't just blame them every time you screw up. Likewise, we're sure it's terrible when you find reporters digging through your garbage. Oh wait, no—that's your brother Daniel.

3. Get yourself a nice girl. Needless to say, things with Kim Basinger didn't exactly work out. You need a woman who is beautiful, is enraptured by your ideas, and believes life revolves around you. We've located that woman. Her name is Malibu Barbie, and she lives at Toys "R" Us.

4. Find Jesus. Okay, Stephen made us put this in here. But he says you'd be amazed at how much accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior will help you forget about personal tragedies, like Bio-Dome.

5. Apologize to your daughter. Look, words alone cannot make up for the damage done. That's why we suggest the following reparations: a gold-plated Sidekick, a baby panda, Ryan Gosling's phone number, and two weeks of sleepovers on the set of High School Musical. And you'd better get started on that Sweet Sixteen party right now. If she doesn't see a BMW 7 series and Gosling dancing in a leopard thong, there's gonna be hell to pay.

Best of luck, Alec. Remember, you once stopped Sean Connery from triggering a nuclear war against America. You know you should be able to call a personal time-out.